He asked his daddy how to
know he had loved,
Not for evidence that he
was in love for that is a different thing,
But for evidence that he
had loved,
And his father said the
evidence is in the scars son,
The evidence that you
have loved is in the scars,
Show me your scars of
love and I will know you have loved,
And he proceeded to tell
a true story!
“He looked at her,
And shook his head,
She wondered why,
So he told her how,
How he had waited,
How long his wait was
dated,
How he had been there,
How he had proposed,
And with the delicacy and
precision of a surgeon,
He dissected the details of
how he had been rejected,
Multiple times like an
incompatible tissue graft,
He described how every
“NO” had painfully tugged his heart,
And brought him to a
place where he hoped it wasn’t meant to be,
Because he couldn’t
imagine the journey back,
With all the milestones
and reminders along the way,
He could not imagine
making the journey to that first day,
When he looked at her,
And his heart took a
leap,
And did a rhumba dance
within his breast,
He could not imagine
making the journey back to the place,
When she last said ‘No’
maybe for the umpteenth time,
And his rhumba dancing
heart fell with the weight of lead,
He pursed his lips and
forced an awkward smile on his face,
Took her hand and fixed a
gaze on her eyes,
Wondered why she was back,
As his mind wandered and
wondered if he is the spare,
His tear glands opened,
And a river of tears
peacefully streamed down his cheeks,
Barely able to speak,
He spoke these difficult
words:
‘you ask something impossible
of me,
I have been there with
you many times,
And nothing about that
place appeals to me or calls my name,
Anymore…’
Then after an agonizing
pause of screaming silence:
‘I love you and will
always do,
I know empirically that while
love is never meant to hurt,
It does hurt sometimes,
We both have too much
baggage along that path,
I believe sometimes, like
now, the painful “NO” is the loving thing to do,
Even though it ached my
heart… ‘
Then slowly and
deliberately and delicately,
As if afraid that it will
fall off her body he left her hand,
Hugged her as if he will
never see her again,
With the weight of the
enormity of the decision weighing on his shoulders,
He dragged himself away,
Feeling lighter as he
went further,
Towards the seas of
boundless opportunities,
Determined to dare to
love again,
Convinced that he had
done the right thing for love,
For many many many times
the proof of love is in its scars,
Remember a scar is the
sequel of healing of the wound”
Brussels © March 2015 afesehngwaHilary
